The First Hour
by Tarrant
Summary: Takes place after Sam has left the VCTF FBI. Sam takes on a new client for her new counseling practice at the behest of a friend. New Chapters Added
1. Chapter 1

The First Hour

By Tarrant

A/N This takes place after Sam leaves the VCTF/FBI.

Sam sat in the chair quietly observing Susan. The young girl was sitting on the couch with her knees pulled up under her and her arms folded over her chest. Sam cleared her throat quietly and Susan glanced toward her briefly before putting her head down a bit and letting her hair slide over the side of her face.

After another ten minutes of quiet, Sam again cleared her throat quietly and softly said. "You know, I really don't blame you for not wanting to talk to me. It isn't like you know me or that you would just automatically know that you can trust me. After all, it wasn't your idea to come here in the first place, now was it?"

Susan glanced at Sam through her hair.

Sam persisted gently. "Tell you what. I'll talk to you for a while. First, you don't have to call me Dr. Waters. Personally, I hate that. It sounds so stuffy. Call me Sam, okay?"

Susan looked a little surprised but still said nothing. Sam hoped she was starting to make a break though but knew this was going to be a very long process.

Sam paused for a moment. Trying to decide what she would share with this young girl. "Hmmmm, lets see. I'm thirty-eight, grew up mostly in Maryland. I have a daughter. She's a little younger than you. I just moved back to Virginia this year from Atlanta and I love your red hair."

Susan moved her head and finally looked into Sam's face. "I hate my hair."

Sam raised an eyebrow briefly and then gave her a nonchalant look. "Too bad, it's really very beautiful on you."

"Yeah, well, what would you know?" Susan said under her breath.

Sam flinched a little. She hadn't meant to hit a sour subject so quickly and she realized she needed to stay away from appearance topics for now.

Trying to get back the flow, Sam said. "Anyway, I went to Wake Forrest. Worked for the FBI for a while and now here I am."

"Why'd you quit?" Susan asked, suddenly taking an interest in what Sam had been saying.

Sam blanched a bit. "I uh...It's a long story."

Susan leaned forward a little. "So is mine, you want to hear mine, I want to hear yours first."

Sam glanced at her watch. 'Damn, this could be a long fifteen minutes' she thought to herself. Sam stalled a little but Susan kept the heat on.

"Come on, you want me to trust you and tell you all my dirty little secrets but you aren't willing to do the same?"

"I'm just not sure that is appropriate."

Susan sat back and smirked at Sam. "Must be pretty good, to make you this uncomfortable."

Sam closed her eyes for a minute and then sighed. When she opened them she sat forward and looked Susan directly in the eye. "I don't appreciate your humor. And I don't believe for one minute that you think anything tragic that happens to another person makes a good story. If you did, you wouldn't have trouble opening up to me and telling me what happened to you. I left the FBI because my daughter needed my attention. And I am here to help you because a very dear friend asked me too."

"I didn't ask you too." Susan said hostilely.

Sam sat back and brushed her hand through her hair. Then softly she nodded. "I know." She went quiet again; disappointed. She felt like they were back at square one and Susan wasn't a bit closer to trusting her than she was almost an hour ago.

The timer besides Sam's chair dinged and Sam glared at it for a moment and then sighed. "Okay Susan, guess we try again tomorrow."

Susan got up off the couch and started for the door. She had her hand on the handle when she turned around. She hesitated for a bit and then said. "Sam, I hope you have a lot of patience."

Sam's back was still toward Susan but she smiled a little to herself. Then she turned and looked at Susan. "I waited seven years to get the man that killed my husband, Susan. Believe me, I have all the patience you will ever need me too."

Susan looked at Sam for a moment and then gave her a small nod. "Later, Sam." She said as she drew open the door and disappeared through it.

Sam sat in the chair and absorbed the conversation. After a while the phone on the desk began to ring.

"Samantha Waters." She said as she snatched it up.

"Did you get anywhere with her?" Sam smiled to herself at the sound of Bailey's warm voice.

"Maybe, I got her to call me Sam." She said as she collapsed into the chair behind the desk.

"Well, that's progress; she wouldn't talk to any of us, much less use our names." He said with a little hope in his voice.

Sam smiled a little. "So Bailey, you couldn't send me a bed wetter to start off my new counseling practice?"

Bailey snorted a bit. "Bed wetters don't typically set their beds on fire, Sam."

Sam frowned a bit to herself. "No, they don't."

"She needs your special brand of help Sam. She needs your compassion and your gift of insight."

"I hope I can help her Bailey. I have a funny feeling that she is going to become more than a patient." Sam said.

"That's because you use your heart as well as your head to help people. I think you are just what she needs." Bailey paused for a moment and Sam could hear someone talking in the background.

"Sam, I have to go. Keep trying, okay. I'll talk to you soon." And just like that, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

The Second Hour

By Tarrant

Sam was sitting in a chair, her shoes kicked off and legs pulled up when there was a knock at the door. She glanced up and waved Susan in.

Susan dropped her book bag on the floor by the door and moved across the room. She plopped down on the couch and glared at Sam. She was quiet for a little bit and then said. "How did you get him?"

Sam shook her head. "You know all you need to know about that for now. This is your hour and I think we need to keep it that way."

Susan rolled her eyes. "How long do we have to do this?"

"The judge said six months. You know, this can be a very long six months or not. It's up to you Susan. I think I can help you if you want it. If not, we end up staring at each other. Your choice."

Susan's voice dripped with sarcasms. "You think I'm just going to tell you my life story and then I can move on."

Sam shook her head. "No, I think we are going to talk about survival skills and growth and then when you are ready, how to move on."

"Taa, what would you know about survival skills?"

Sam's face softened. "Why don't you tell me about survival skills?"

Susan glared at Sam for a good two minutes and then said. "What makes you think that I know about survival skills?"

Sam chose her words carefully. "I think you know a lot about survival skills. I think you use them constantly to the point you are no longer aware of it."

"You think you know a lot. You don't know crap about me lady."

Sam sat back and sighed a little. Then she leaned over to her desk and picked up a folder. She settled back in the chair and opened the folder while looking at Susan.

"Susan Case, fifteen. At eight lost her mother to a drug overdose. Also at eight removed from her father's home for molestation. At ten moved out of foster home after being brought to the hospital by a neighbor with burns on her back. Three more foster homes over the next three years, until she disappeared. Finally located when she destroyed the house she was living in by setting the bed on fire with herself in it. Now a ward of the court in juvenile detention awaiting psychological treatment and evaluation." Sam shut the folder and ran her hand absently over the cover.

She tossed the file back on her desk and moved to stand up. She walked around the chair and finally sat on the corner of it with her back to Susan. "Your right Susan, all I know is what I have been told and also what I have already observed about you. I know that you are a very angry young woman, that doesn't trust me. But like it or not, you and I will be spending an hour a day, five days a week together for the next six months. I know about survival skills because I have leaned on them myself."

Sam paused for a moment then continued. "I could tell you stories about adults that just like you, were abused as children. Adults that grew up to hate, kill, torture. I can also tell you about adults that grew up to love, succeed, and care for others. Or even about the ones that didn't make it at all. Those are the ones that didn't learn to use survival skills, Susan. The difference in the first two is that those that turned their experiences into something they could use to help others, had help learning to love themselves first. That's what I want to help you do. That's why I am willing to be here to talk to you." Sam turned to look at Susan. "I want to help you. I want you to learn good use of survival skills. I don't think you really want to die, Susan."

Sam saw a hint of a tear appear on Susan's cheek before the girl wiped it away quickly. At some point during Sam's little speech, Susan had again curled up into the ball she had spent most of yesterday in.

Sam knew that Susan would need time to digest what she had said and so she moved over to the door and opened it wide. "I think we have worked all that we needed too today, Susan. It's okay if you want to leave early."

Susan practically bolted for the door. Racing out so quickly she forgot her book bag by the door.

"Susan!" Sam called softly. The young woman stopped but didn't turn around. Sam picked up the bag and set it down beside her.

Susan grabbed it up and took off quickly down the hall and around the corner.

Sam ran her fingers through her hair and turned back into her office. She sat down at her desk and pulled open the progress note file for Susan. She hadn't written much but then she had the feeling they were making strides that had yet to be recognized. Sam sighed and closed the file again. "Tomorrow is another day."


	3. Chapter 3

The Third Hour

By Tarrant

A/N Sorry it has taken me so long to get this written. Real life once again has interfered with my creative streak.

Of course the usual disclaimers apply. I don't own them, don't have money. Please don't sue me. I just want to play with them.

Sam glanced at the clock on the chair side table. 3:35. She was late. Sam frowned and glanced at the door again, finally she saw movement down the hall and moments later the door to her office opened and there stood Susan with a female corrections officer. The officer guided Susan into the room a bit and then turned to Sam. "Had a little trouble making it into the office alone today, thought I would give her a hand." She nodded a bit toward Sam, turned and closed the door behind her.

Susan stood at the door for several more seconds and then practically stomped over to the couch and plopped down into a ball.

Sam looked down and stared at her hands for several seconds and then glanced up at Susan. She had her head down and was picking at a fuzz ball on her jumpsuit.

Sam took in a breath, stood up and moved over to her desk. She picked up the pad and pen in front of her and rocked her chair slightly back and to the side as she began writing. After about ten minutes she got up, went to the file cabinet and placed the paperwork in a folder and went back to her desk, she busied herself with mundane tasks for a few more minutes and then turned to Susan. "Do you know how to file?"

Susan looked up surprised. "What?"

"Do you know how to file? I have some stuff over there that needs to be put away. Sam waved her hand at a pile of folders in the corner. "If you are going to be here and not talk, you might as well be useful."

Susan glared at Sam. "Of course I know how to file, I'm not stupid."

Sam refused to acknowledge the irritation in Susan's voice. "Good, that's one less thing I have to do today then. That should take you about 25 minutes and then you can go."

Susan hesitated for a few moments, unsure that Sam was serious. When Sam didn't look back up at her, she finally stood up and limped over to the pile; she pulled up a stool and picked up the first folder. Thumbing through the folder she looked over at Sam, "What is all of this?"

Sam didn't look up but instead picked up the phone and began to dial. "The files are confidential, don't look through them-- just put them away."

"Fine then." Susan said sarcastically and shut the folder, she worked a bit while Sam made some appointment calls and when she was done she stood up. "Can I go?"

"May I, and yes." Susan headed for the door. As she turned the knob Sam glanced up from the desk. "Susan, don't show up late tomorrow or the judge and I will be having a talk." She looked back down before Susan could respond. Susan's hand hesitated on the knob for a moment longer and then she pulled the door open and disappeared through it.

Sam sighed a bit as the door closed behind her. She opened the progress notes and began writing.


	4. Chapter 4

The Fourth Hour

By Tarrant

Sam was on the phone and had her back to the door when she heard it open promptly at 3:30. "Okay Bail, I'll talk to you later." She turned around and hung up the phone. Without looking up she said "I would appreciate it if you would knock in the future." She stood up and stretched a bit. Picking up her coffee cup and turning away she said "There is another pile of folders in the corner that need filing and then I have some other projects for you when you are done."

Susan glanced at a large stack of folders and then back at Sam. Sam was filling her coffee cup and took her time stirring in the creamer. When she turned back Susan was still looking at her. "What?"

Susan sneered a bit, "So what, now I'm your secretary?"

Sam remained poker faced. "No, you are my patient. But to put it bluntly, you are here, you are not working with me and I don't have time to waste like this, so if you don't want to work with me, you can work for me."

Susan dropped her book bag by the door and pulled up the stool next to the pile of folders again. "This blows."

"I couldn't agree more." Sam said with no apology in her voice as she sat back down at her desk.

After several minutes of silence Susan turned toward Sam. "Hey, I put this one away yesterday."

Sam again didn't look up from the desk. "Yep, and you will put it way tomorrow too, if that's how you want it."

Susan tossed the folder on top of the stack and glared at the top of Sam's head for a few minutes. Still looking down at the desk, Sam rolled her eyes, refusing to play along in Susan's tantrum. "Susan, either put the folders away or sit on the couch and talk to me, those are your choices. I don't care which, but you will not just sit in this office for an hour a day and do nothing."

After another minute Susan picked up the folder again and began to put it away, she was quiet for a while. Finally she said "Why do you want to help me anyway."

Sam smiled a bit to herself. "That's what I do." She said simply. "Besides, I promised my friend and the judge that I would do what I could."

"No, I mean, why do you want to help **ME**."

Sam looked at Susan for the first real time today. "Because I believe you desperately need somebody to trust and I am here so that person is going to be me. I think I am exactly what you need right now and I don't intend to give up."

"I don't trust anybody." Susan said staring directly into Sam's eyes.

"I know." Sam said nodding her head. "But everyone needs someone that they can count on no matter what."

Susan was quiet again and turned back to the files so Sam went back to making notes on the paperwork covering her desk. When she finished she walked over to the couch and sat down. After a few minutes Sam heard her softly say "I need something."

Sam sat back in her chair and gave Susan her full attention. "What do you need?"

"They took away most of my medications when they transferred me from the hospital to this hole, the only thing they give me now is my antibiotics." Sam nodded and Susan continued. "I kinda need some Tylenol or ibuprophen."

Sam nodded again. "I noticed the limp was getting worse. I'll see what I can do."

Sam noted a glimmer of a smile before it disappeared. "MAY, I go now?"

Sam openly smiled at the sarcastic, but correct grammar. "Yes, you may, I'll see you Monday. You have my number if you need me in the mean time."

Susan nodded and made a bee line for the door. She stopped and looked at Sam again. "Have a good weekend, Sam." Then she was gone.

Sam picked up the phone and dialed the extension for the institution nurse. When she was done she placed another call. "Hey Bail….."


End file.
